Volume 1, Chapter 9 – An attempt to Change Impressions

Dinner was soon prepared. The opulent dining room featured a long table draped in white linen, with several maidservants standing by. Surprisingly, among them was a woman dressed in revealing attire, clearly standing out from the rest—Yisi guessed she must be a blood slave. The skimpy clothing was likely the preference of the Count’s eldest daughter, whose eccentric personality meant she was only interested in members of the same sex.

Sitting at the head of the table as a matter of course, Yisi cleared her throat lightly. The unnerving silence despite the many people present made her feel extremely awkward. She could only instruct a maid to bring a chair and beckoned Camilla over.

Perhaps because she had dressed up, Camilla was no longer wearing the casual clothes from the morning but attire befitting a noble.

Her neatly combed golden hair was tied back with a large white ribbon, and her black dress, which exposed her smooth shoulders and back, seemed entirely unsuitable for late autumn—just looking at it made Yisi feel cold. Further down, while the upper half resembled a ball gown, the lower half was paired with white knee-high socks and long boots. Though it sounded mismatched, the ensemble somehow gave the illusion that “this was exactly how it should be,” as if this outfit were tailor-made for the girl.

But what stood out most were her eyes—crimson pools that seemed to draw people in, devoid of any discernible emotion.

“Sit down.”

“But…”

Camilla’s face showed not delight but deep hesitation. Though she was also a member of the Pescia family, her human status meant she lacked the privilege to dine at the same table as the Count’s eldest daughter in a household of vampires.

“What, does Camilla dislike sitting at the same table as me?”

“Not at all! It would be an honor to share a meal with you, Onee-sama.”

“Then sit.”

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This was Yisi’s first attempt. If she wanted to change people’s ingrained perceptions of the Count’s eldest daughter, she had to take concrete action.

After a moment of hesitation, Camilla took the seat to Yisi’s left.

Seems within acceptable limits.

Yisi breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had worried Camilla might immediately notice something amiss, but upon reflection, how could Camilla possibly deduce that the Count’s eldest daughter was no longer herself from just one gesture? She had overthought it.

“Onee-sama seems quite happy.”

“Of course. I’ve taken the first successful step—why wouldn’t I be?”

“Are you referring to magic?”

“Ah… precisely. Camilla, do you know how I left the estate?”

Yisi glanced subtly at Camilla. This was another part of her plan—to understand how this world differed from the game. So far, the magic system and racial settings seemed identical to Ragnarøk, but she couldn’t assume they were entirely the same. The Count’s eldest daughter wasn’t omniscient, and the memories she’d inherited were fragmented and disorganized, making them difficult to parse. Camilla, as a magic caster, was a more direct source of information.

Camilla shook her head, her golden hair swaying gently.

“No. At first, when you asked me to guard the door, I thought you were practicing magic. But when the Church’s representatives visited, you were already gone. The guards stationed around the estate didn’t notice your departure, so they speculated you must have been abducted.”

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“Have you heard of Advanced Teleportation?”

“Advanced Teleportation?”

As Yisi expected, confusion flashed across Camilla’s face. The Count’s eldest daughter’s memories also contained no mention of Advanced Teleportation.

“I mean magic that can transport people.”

“I’ve heard of teleportation magic, but it usually can’t cover more than a hundred meters. And that’s a third-tier spell—has Onee-sama made a breakthrough?”

“Third-tier magic? A three-hundred-level magic caster?”

In Ragnarøk, every hundred levels corresponded to a tier. For example, Yisi, as a Level 427 player, could use up to fourth-tier magic. Thus, when Camilla mentioned “third-tier,” Yisi instinctively associated it with Level 300.

Given what she knew—that the average level in this world was in the single digits—if teleportation magic required Level 300, its disappearance made perfect sense. Yisi could easily understand that.

Yet Camilla’s expression turned puzzled—or rather, as if she were checking whether Yisi was ill.

“Level 300… Onee-sama, is this information you obtained from the Demon King Ouranos? The records I’ve seen state that teleportation is a Level 30 spatial spell…”

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“Level 30?”

“Yes, Level 30 corresponds to third-tier magic. Have you forgotten? If Onee-sama is feeling unwell, please tell me. I know some healing magic.”

Tch, so that’s how it is.

Yisi clicked her tongue. It seemed the tier system for magic in this world differed from Ragnarøk. In the game, every hundred levels marked a tier, but here, it was every ten levels.

From now on, she’d have to adhere to this world’s magic tier system.

Awkwardly averting her gaze, Yisi focused on the plate before her. Vampires in this world needed blood but also had to consume normal food—both were essential for sustaining life.

Cutlery consists of a knife and fork, huh? I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable using these.

Yisi couldn’t help feeling that dining in the restaurant had been a mistake. Unpracticed with cutlery, she might reveal herself through minor slip-ups.

I’ll have to ask for chopsticks later. For now, I’d better change the subject.

With that thought, Yisi instinctively glanced at the scantily clad blood slave. Typically, the Count’s eldest daughter would drink directly from the neck, but that was too challenging for her—her modern sensibilities couldn’t accept such a primitive, barbaric act. To bite someone’s neck for blood, one would either need to have lived in this world long enough to adapt or possess a naturally callous disregard for others.

Moreover, Yisi harbored a stubborn belief that drinking blood from a goblet was far more romantic.

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Of course, she had no intention of refusing blood altogether. As a vampire now, rejecting blood would be tantamount to suicide. Having crossed into another world, she naturally wanted to live well. Besides, according to the Count’s eldest daughter’s memories, blood was an extraordinarily delicious thing.

Not just delicious—it even had different flavors? The metallic taste of ordinary blood was understandable, but orange and strawberry flavors? That’s just too bizarre.

Curiosity instantly took hold of Yisi. She beckoned to the blood slave.

“Come here.”

“Y-yes…”

Yisi’s gaze made the girl tremble, but as a slave, obedience outweighed fear. She approached cautiously, step by step. Likely to prevent escape, the girl’s wings and ankles were shackled, and paired with her revealing outfit, the effect was undeniably provocative. Yisi did her best to keep her gaze from lingering too indecently.

“Are you cold?”

“Eh?” Unprepared for such a question, the girl let out a small sound of surprise before timidly lowering her head. “N-not at all…”

She’s probably lying. Yisi glanced at the girl’s hands, blue from the cold. Though winter hadn’t yet arrived, it wasn’t far off.

Yisi stood, picked up an empty goblet from farther down the table, and handed it to Camilla.

“Put the blood in this cup for me.”